


Translation Error

by sajere1



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, dave strider abuse survivor, jade drives a motorcycle and is bad ass, still figuring out background ships dont mind me, this is basically a really long excuse to talk about how gay dave is ill be real here, trolls and humans live in semi-harmony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sajere1/pseuds/sajere1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has a plan. A foolproof plan. The kind of plan that makes everyone think, damn, what a good best friend. Everyone would give their ass to be Dave's best friend, because he is the sort of best friend that comes with awesome, totally-not-pulled-out-of-his-ass plans that rock his friends' socks off. The best friend plan. The plan that's gonna make Jade happy beyond belief.</p><p>Dave is gonna set her up with Karkat Vantas.</p><p>It probably would've helped to know beforehand that Karkat is trying to set her up with Dave.</p><p>[or: dave "i want my best friend to be happy and if that means setting her up in a romance with shouty mcdorkpants then so be it" strider and karkat "i am watching the 'best friends that are secretly in love' trope unfold before my very eyes time to flex my matchmaking muscles" vantas experience a significant and very gay clash of interests: the romcom]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is a Saturday afternoon, you have been moping for 27 hours straight, and Jade Harley is waiting for you when you open the door.

You don’t even have time to ask her what the fuck she’s doing here before she muscles her way past you. “Everybody outta the goddamn way,” she says as she drops her Wal Greens bag on the counter. “I got a bag full of ice cream, a brother full of stupid, and a laptop full of shitty movies.”

“Christ, Harley,” you snort as you knock the door closed behind her. “Give a man some warning before you barge in with that shit.”

She ignores you. Probably wise. “I heard that John did something dumb,” she says, matter-of-fact as she searches your kitchen for the silverware drawer, “and if you want to talk about it, I’m here for that, but if you’re too busy being cool then I brought all of _Trapped in the Closet_ and, like, five pints of cookies and cream.” She tosses her motorcycle keys onto the side table; you lean a shoulder against the wall and watch as they skid and hit the couch, where one of you will undoubtedly forget and sit on them by accident later. “Or if you want to be alone I guess I could leave?”

“No, you can stay,” you say, quick, throwing yourself onto the chair of your living room, wincing at the sounds of her rooting through your cabinets. Nobody else is home – Dirk and Roxy are both out on Hot Dates™ and Rose is doing some weird scary horror thing across town – and though you like to pretend otherwise, the emptiness of the house gets to you real fast.

“Yeah, I figured.” Finally, Jade makes her way to the living room, tossing you one of the containers and a spoon, waving the ridiculous shitty DVD in front of your face. “So, you, me, R Kelly, extremely ironic closet metaphors?”

You don’t laugh – you almost never do; too much emotion, too much obvious, too much vulnerable – but you do crack a smile, nestling into the chair cushion. “Well, damn, Jade, ‘ironic closet metaphors’ is just the gay coolkid aesthetic wrapped up, ain’t it.”

Jade snorts. “Sure, coolkid,” she mocks, dropping onto your couch – and immediately squeals and jumps up, scowling at the keys she just sat on.

You laugh, finally – a single bark that you shut up real fast – but it’s enough, and by the time the first beats of _Trapped in the Closet_ start up, you are finally ready to really relax.

+x+

Your name is Dave Strider and you are so fucking gay. Like, wow. Holy shit. A pair of unicorn dudes making out on a rainbow of rose petals while Elton John wails the theme of Brokeback Mountain is straighter than you are. You are, like, Lance Bass deep throating a banana gay. Every relevant celebrity named Ellen gay. You are Cristopher Marlowe macking on Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde doing literally anything, _Rose Lalonde_ levels of gay.

You are also so far in the closet that watching R Kelly ironically has wrapped around to a tragic unironic not-joke that is made ironic by your acknowledgment of it. Or. Okay, that one got away from you. You haven’t come out to anyone yet. Anyone but Jade, anyway.

Though when you think about it logically, there isn’t any real reason not to? Like, literally all three of your siblings are also as not-straight as they come. None of them have the same labels as each other (by which you mean that Dirk doesn’t use labels at all and you have no fucking idea what Roxy’s doing, bless that girl), but they’ve all been pretty open about their sexualities. Most of your friends, too, come to think of it. You’re in a safe environment.

And they’ve all been supportive with all your other shitty baggage. You only got dropped in with your remaining actual family a couple years ago, and the only one with any sort of real grasp of what you went through is Dirk (because seriously, holy shit, the guy looks just like your bro, it’s like a goddamn clone, you feel like you’re justified talking about what you went through with him so he at least knows why you’re instinctively cold shouldering), but everyone’s been more than accommodating in any way they can.

But. On the other hand. You maybe should get to a point with basic human functioning, like Using Kitchen Appliances Without Hyperventilating and Wearing Short Sleeve Shirts, before you get into the really nitty gritty hey-guys-I’m-really-into-dudes-whoops talk.

So that’s that. You’ve lived through your embarrassingly intense crush on John, your brief obsession with Ben Stiller’s weird, sort of gaunt face, and your rather artistic journal entries on the glorious figure of John Boyega, all without a peep to about seven eighths of your friends. Maybe you will tell them. Maybe you won’t. Either way, right now, things seem…sort of okay again.

And, honestly, that’s better than you’ve ever had it.

+x+

You don’t see John again until school on Monday, and though your 12-hour hangout and feelings jam with Jade left you feeling much more gracious, it’s still pretty satisfying to watch him grovel for your forgiveness.

“Dude, it’s no big deal,” you say, rooting through your locker as he chews his lip next to you. Dude’s always had a problem with chapped lips – back when you were into him, it was pretty much all you thought about for full days at a time, so you are very aware of that trait, thanks. “Forgetting to meet someone isn’t, like, the harbinger of the apocalypse or whatever. Ain’t no thang.” You roll the twang on just a little bit for ironic purposes as you drag your Anatomy and Physiology book from your shelf.

“Of course it’s a big deal!” John stresses, and you can almost imagine him throwing his arms up in frustration if you weren’t surrounded by easily-hittable high school students. “It’s a huge deal. The biggest deal.”

“Or no deal.”

“But for real, though.” He gives you the patented puppy dog eyes and you have to resist the urge to give in immediately to all of his whims. “It’ll never happen again. Scout’s honor!”

“Didn’t you get kicked out of boy scouts?” you ask, absent-mindedly rooting through your bag to make sure you’ve got the right notebook.

“You can’t prove that,” he says, crossing his arms, and you roll your eyes behind your glasses where he can’t see.

“Yeah, whatever you say, buddy,” you snort, finally satisfied with your supplies as you close your locker. “Listen, I’m not angry. But next time you blow me off to hang out with Spiderbitch…well, at least warn me first, alright?”

“Don’t call her that!” John insists. “Vriska’s cool!”

“She’s fucking insane, bro.”

“She…well, alright, I’ll give you that,” John allows reluctantly. “But she’s also cool! Plus, we were actually talking about something, like, legitimately important.” He trails after you as you drag your shit into the cafeteria, dropping your bag on a table as you wait for the others to find you with their shitty, school-allocated breakfast. “Like I said. Never again.”

“Mm-hmm.” Yeah, you’re gonna call bullshit. “What exactly was so important? What, did Nic Cage have a tragic accident? Hopefully?”

“Never!” John actually puts a hand on his chest in horror. “Even the thought, my God. No – actually, we were talking about some school stuff.”

“School stuff?” you ask just as Jade and Rose finally make their way out of the line for food and over to you. You immediately snag a French toast stick from Jade’s tray and move to do the same with Rose before she slaps your hand away. Can always count on that sisterly generosity. “What, bro, you getting kinky? Trying to get it on in a classroom?”

“What? No, I – “

“’Cause you always coulda just come to me, dude. I am, like, the sexual deviancy aficionado. The porn prince. The escapade escapist.”

“That last one doesn’t really sound useful,” Jade says, wrinkling her nose.

“Now that Dave has given us our daily lesson in Freudian psychology,” Rose butts in, casually sipping her milk between thoughts, “maybe John could enlighten us as to what the actual fuck is going on?”

You open your mouth to shoot something back but Jade shushes you. “I was talking to Vriska about the troll-human thing!” John bursts, perhaps sensing that you are on the verge of interrupting this whole spiel to throwdown with Rose’s psychology books. “You know, the club?”

You all pause at that. “Ah,” Rose says finally, and you collectively glance over to the unintentional but constant and unpassable line in the middle of the cafeteria that splits where trolls sit and where humans sit.

There isn’t exactly tension between humankind and trollkind. Sure, the whole “we will subjugate you and force you to live under our grand empress as slaves!” thing was kinda awkward at first, but history has thankfully moved past that point and the two species are more or less living in harmony. Now only some of the trolls want to subjugate you and force you to live under their grand empress as slaves. The others do…something, probably? You have no idea what the others do. You are not exactly an expert on trolls.

“I imagine the teachers are glad to have a club advocating for cross-species dialogue,” Rose says, finally, and you all turn back to each other with a simultaneous choreography that is a little creepy, if you’re totally honest. “I was thinking of joining, actually. It sounds like a fascinating example of interspecies discussion.”

“You just want to meet hot troll girls,” you say.

She wiggles her eyebrows at you. “That, too.”

“You totally should, Rose!” John says. “Vriska and I were gonna join together, too. It’d be awesome to have you along!”

“Well, far be it from me to deny her royal spiderness,” Rose says, wry, and you and Jade catch eyes and you already know exactly how this is gonna go down, god dammit.

_No,_ you mouth at her.

_Yes,_ she mouths back.

_No._

_Yes._

_No._

_Yes._

_Fiiine._

“We’re in, too,” Jade announces, clapping you on the back hard enough that you lurch forward.

“Alright, we’ll all go then!” John cheers, giving the whole group a wide thumbs up as you and Jade make faces at each other. “I’m pretty sure we need to sign up with Mr. Scratch by the end of the week…”

You glance over your shoulder, once more, at the troll half of the room. “Relax,” Jade says, voice low, just loud enough for you to hear as John and Rose talk out logistics. She squeezes your forearm, touch gentle. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice only half-certain, but the sinking in your gut is saying you have just made a very, very bad mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confession: i have no idea what im doing or how titles work. all i know is that dave strider is gay and jade harley is a muscular motorcycle-riding badass, and honestly, is anything else really important


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and this…was not how you expected your day to go.

“What the fuck is this,” you say. You are sitting in the back of history class, corralled into groups of four. Professor Deuce is at the front of the room doing exactly what he always does, which is jack shit. And you are stuck here. With your shitty group. Your ungodly, shitty group.

“Listen,” Eridan says, and he’s still? Holding out his packet of pamphlets to you? Why?? “Vantas. Karkat. Kar. My buddy. My pal.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me any of those. Stop talking to me.”

“I know we’ve had our differences,” he blusters on, and even though he is ignorant of it as always, you can feel Kanaya burning a hole in his forehead where she’s sitting next to you. You’re self-aware like that. “I’ve made a mistake or two. You’ve also made a ton of mistakes. And as the mostly wounded party, I think it’s time that we bury the hatchet. I’m willing to forgive you for all you’ve done if you will forgive me for all I’ve done, and also if you take this pamphlet and present it to your stupid shitty club after school this week.”

You look down at the pamphlet title. _Subjugating Humans and Forcing Them to Live Under Our Grand Empress as Slaves: Why It Isn’t All Bad._

“Counter offer,” you say. “I cram all these pamphlets up your nook, light them on fire, and let Gamzee roll a joint with your ashes.”

“I like that one,” Kanaya says, her voice as slow and deliberate as always.

Eridan puts his pamphlets back in his bookbag.

“Anyway!” Aradia says where she is trying valiantly to participate as the fourth member of your group. “Let’s start on the beginning of cross-cultural history, yeah? The arrival of trolls in North America!”

“Ah, yes,” Eridan says. “When the Imperial Condesce herself attempted to subjugate and then cull the entire human race. The ideal time period.”

“Do you ever fucking turn off?” You ask as Aradia stands up, presumably to grab her skateboard in the corner and ride it out the goddamn window. “Like, is this why none of your friends can stand you? Do you ever have a single somewhat not awful thought, or does a constant stream of shitty xenophobic rhetoric spray out your seed flap every time you try to vomit up what you call logic?”

Eridan’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment. Aradia closes the door behind her. You are fairly certain you hear a muffled kick and an _OW!_ From the hallway.

“Well,” Kanaya says, lips twitching in pride, “now that that’s over with, let’s look at the textbook.”

+x+

Kankri Vantas is an asshole, but not for the reasons you’d think.

Like, most people hate him because the guy is a little preachy. And on the one hand, yes, he would probably talk his voice gone and then keep going if he could, but you respect that. You do that yourself, sometimes. And yes, he’s very…strongly opinionated. One of the few trolls that have adopted human family dynamics instead of sticking with the good ol’ “let them fight for the right to exist, because that isn’t weird and super cruel or anything” lusus tradition. But you can respect that about him, too. Again, you can be a lot like that. You’re not gonna get hung up on his opinions being too inclusive or whatever. You’re an asshole, but you aren’t that much of an asshole.

The problem with Kankri Vantas is that he literally cannot ever, once in his life, actually get off his ass and do something about his beliefs. “Kankri,” someone will say, “if you care so much for poor people, why don’t you participate in charity?” “Well,” Kankri will start, “first off, I take offense to your referring to them as ‘poor’, which as a statement can be just as important as the actual helping of the lower income person themselves, but more on that later. Often times, charities will actually be to the detriment of a society on a more structural level, not to mention that plenty of heads of charities will be racist, sexist, xenophobic, etc. In fact, it is in many ways a more revolutionary statement to not participate in charities: there is a societal expectation that helping people actually means helping people, when in fact it is sometimes more helpful to keep yourself out of the situation altogether. People and trolls living in poverty…” and on and on and on, like a fucking broken record.

It’s like the opposite of Eridan. Eridan doesn’t shut up about how great he is because he wants to kill everyone. Kankri doesn’t shut up about how great he is because he wants to “save” everyone. He thinks he’s too good to go out and help people, but he doesn’t want to say it, so he uses structural issues that actually exist as an excuse not to get involved in fighting those issues.

Also, for a guy who can’t discuss sex without a half hour lead up, he makes a disturbing amount of 69 jokes.

So sometimes you pick up the slack a little. Someone’s gotta put their money where Kankri’s mouth is, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna be him. So you just…help out at the food kitchen. Sometimes. Bi-weekly. And you’ll head out to help on Habitat for Humanity’s projects every Saturday at way-too-fucking-early.

And you’ll get roped into being the president of the school’s new interspecies communication club.

He does not take this news well.

“Kankri texted. He says he needs to talk to you,” Kanaya calls over from the table where she has your phones and her biology homework in front of you, studiously continuing the study session you all had scheduled and then immediately thrown aside for video games.

“Tell him to suck a human dick and let loose,” Sollux calls, voice careless as he casually beats your ass in at Metroid Prime 2.

“Don’t do that,” you tell Kanaya, and then when you see her reaching for her phone, _“Kanaya.”_

“I was just going to tell him you were busy,” she says, but you can see a slip of fang as she smiles.

“Bullshit,” you say. “Do not. I see you. Put it down. Yes, you.”

“Pay attention to the game, KK, god,” Sollux says, and you turn to realize that you have been spawn-killed twice in the time it took you to protest.

You swear loudly and set to the game with renewed vigor. “Don’t send him any messages. I’ll just tell him my phone was off,” you say, loud enough that she can hear you without you turning around.

There is a moment’s pause. “Whoops,” Kanaya says.

“What?”

“I already sent him something.”

“What.”

She winces. “I just told him that it was me, and you weren’t available. That isn’t…too bad, right?”

You turn to stare at her, aghast. Sollux is laughing next to you – that full-body thing he does that shakes the whole couch, but not his concentration. That’s Sollux. He’s unflappable. Unshakable. His palms are sweaty. Knees weak arms spaghetti wait what.

Before you can say anything, your phone begins to vibrate, and even from her you can see “Call from Kankri” loud on your phone. “Oh, no,” you whisper.

“Holy shit,” Sollux cackles. “Your voicemail is gonna be _clogged.”_

“Shut up!” you hiss, whirling to glare at him.

“He’s gonna leave you 69 messages, holy shit, this is great – “

“I swear to god I will take your morph balled ass and punt it so hard you’ll make a crater on Mercury – “

Your phone beeps over to voicemail. You stare in abject horror for a long moment.

10 minutes later, when you have nearly forgotten about it, Kanaya calls out, “You have 35 voicemails and counting.”

You resist the urge to bang your head against the wall until your think pan bleeds out your ears as Sollux bursts into laughter again next to you.

+x+

Vriska pops in exactly eight minutes before the first ever club meeting starts and hollers, “Party’s starting, boys!”

“Uuuugh,” you say as she marches in, Terezi trailing behind her with a snicker. Kanaya smacks you lightly on the arm.

Why did you let her come. You made sure Gamzee and Eridan fucked off. You could’ve totally vetoed her membership. You’re the president you have that power. Oh god, Tavros is in the corner there. Just looking at you. Staring. With those sad, sad eyes. Those eyes are going to haunt your dreams. You’ve let down Tavros. You piece of shit.

“John and his weird human friends will be along in a few minutes,” she says, tossing her purse onto a nearby desk. Oh. Right. That’s why.

“Weird human friends?” you say. “You don’t even know their names?”

“Do you?” she shoots back, and your back stiffens indignantly.

“Of course I do! There’s Rose and – uh, Roxy, and, uh Dirk, and…Rose…and I wanna say his name’s, uh, Joke? Jock?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smirks at you and resist the urge to throw your biology textbook at her. Stupid fucking Vriska, acting like being John’s friend is some sort of weird competition. No you’re not jealous shut up.

“There’ll be time for introductions when they get here,” Kanaya sooths, and you relax instinctively at her tone. You are pretty sure Kanaya has never actually talked to John, and you will be honest, you’re excited to watch that particular interaction.

After a long moment’s pause. “Is Rose the one with a motorcycle?” Kanaya says, finally, and oh. You know that tone. That is an attempt at polite disinterest that is actual a ton of totally intimate actual interest. That’s Kanaya’s ‘Somehow I Already Know Which One Is A Lesbian And I’m Interested’ voice.

No, that’s his sister,” Vriska says. “Jode? Jude? Something like that.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. She could beat me up, so I steer clear of her. I know when to back off.”

“I like her already,” you say.

“Rose,” Vriska continues like Tavros isn’t nodding his head at you vigorously over her shoulder, “is the blonde one. You know, short? Used to be goth?” At Kanaya’s blank expression, she adds, “Got detention for making gay porn out of her needlework in home ec?”

“I didn’t realize this school had home ec,” Kanaya admits.

“Me either,” you say. “When the fuck did this happen?”

Vriska rolls her eyes.

John’s voice startles you all. “Hey, guys, we’re here!” he calls, pulling open the door, and you weren’t exactly waiting on pins and needles but he drags his friends in behind him and then – and then –

You sit up. Dead straight. Staring.

This is the first time you ever see Dave Strider and Jade Harley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man i posted 4 pages about how dave strider was gay and like? 200 of you read it? holy shit?? that is a lot of people  
> this chapter was supposed to be longer and also very different but then my hard drive failed and i got stuck rewriting it. on a SCHOOL COMPUTER. how i suffer for my art  
> anyway, because of the whole broken computer and also because i am going to do Real Research by watching Real Romantic Comedies because that is how much i appreciated all of ur comments and want to keep yall happy, next chapter might not be out for like. four or five days. sorry yall. it will also be longer than 4 pages. thank god intros are over  
> thank u for everyone who said nice things! i dont have the time to answer them all but i reread all of them way too much. yall are a++ 10/10 would be read by you again


	3. Chapter 3

Your name is Dave Strider, and you have it on good authority you are heavier than you look.

“Wow, you are exactly as heavy as you look,” Jade says, letting your arms fall loose over her shoulders; you shift to make sure you don’t knock your glasses off on her ponytail. “He’s like 90 pounds! Maybe you got it wrong, John.”

“He’s really heavy!” John protests, courageously salvaging his dignified expression where he dropped your ass onto the unforgiving hallway floor only moments ago. “I swear!”

“Weak,” you say. “Come on, John. We were supposed to be hero buddies. You woulda been the noble steed I rode into battle. The strong husband to my simpering wife. Jumping into your arms at the end of the ceremony, ooooh Mr. Egbert, carry me in your manly man arms to your manly man cave for our manly man honeymoon. Rose could’ve been the flower girl. You’ve denied Rose the ability to be our flower girl, John.”

“Can I be the manly man husband now, Dave?” Jade asks, hitching you up and wow okay she is actually carrying you around on her back. Sweet.

“Hells yeah,” you say. Rose manages a frustrated little huff and grabs your backpack for you off the ground as the four of you start to meander in the general direction of the Carapacian History room, where Mr. Noir has undoubtedly finished making threatening stabby motions at anyone within three hallways and packed up to make room for the intercultural club. “I’m piggybacking you to glory, Harley. John left me at the altar and you fucking leapt from your place as best man, shouting how you’ve always loved me. You were the romcom hero all along. It’s you.”

“Thrilling.” Rose’s voice is somehow even dryer than usual. “Truly, you have a talent for B-list cinematic archetypes.”

“I’d watch it,” John chirps.

“You would,” you say at the same time Jade says _“I_ wouldn’t.”

Rose rolls her eyes, but you can see where she’s bit down on her lip to hide her smile. “Not to distract from this vital cinematic critique,” she says, “but where are we going?”

“Carapacian history room,” Jade says.

“Yes. Where is that?”

“Oh, I’ll show you!” John brightens from where he’s been making faces at you over Jade’s shoulder; he immediately takes point, leading the group as Jade attempts to keep her stone-faced passenger (you) from nudging her ribs like a proper noble steed.

“Haven’t taken Carapacian history, Rose?” you say. “Wow. What a lack of intercultural understanding. Incredible.”

“Dave, you thought adolescent trolls formed chrysalises until yesterday.”

“And in my heart of hearts, I always will. If I believe in something, that makes it slightly less fake. Checkmate.”

“Okay, Dave,” Rose says, and you force your expression to remain impassive. She gives you a sickly sweet smile and keeps walking.

You hate Rose’s passive aggressive approval. Which is made worse by the fact that she knows you hate it, and she knows you know she knows, so she does it as often as she can. It’s a pyrrhic victory of the worst kind, because it’s actually her victory somehow you think. Psychological bullshit.

“This is it!” John says, and you all lurch to a stop. You will be honest, you are somewhat impressed that Jade hasn’t so much as stumbled carrying you so far. Man you love that girl. John shoves the door open with his shoulder, hollering “Hey, guys, we’re here!” to the room’s inhabitants as the rest of you trudge in after him.

The Carapacian History room is approximately large enough for 12 people, largely because that is pretty much the number of people who care about Carapacian history. You actually took a couple of classes on it back in Texas – for ironic purposes at first, but then because the teacher, an ex-bodyguard named who insisted everyone call him “the authority regulator,” was fucking awesome – so technically you didn’t have to satisfy that diversity quota once you moved here. But you did anyway, because you had open periods and you enjoy torturing Noir with the variety of clocks you’ve taken to stocking in your bag. Man that guy hates clocks.

But despite having barely enough space to breathe, the room isn’t bad; Noir’s girlfriend-wife-partner-whatever has the whole room decorated in nice little floral prints and stickers that he protects with the threat of several detentions, and the pale purple of the walls gives the room a nice, cozy feeling.

“Well, well, well,” Vriska drawls from the middle of the mostly-filled room, and you are just steeling yourself for John to get trapped in her sickly, only-mostly-metaphorical web –

“Karkat!” John yelps, pushing past Vriska completely to grin over the desk of a troll with the wildest hair you’ve ever seen in your life. “I didn’t realize you were gonna be here!”

“Gonna be here?” Karkat asks, scandalized, and his voice is permanently hoarse, like a long-time smoker or someone who spends 99% of their days screaming at anything in sight. “I’m the president, you obtuse dunce. I created this monstrosity. It is the collective brainchild of every awful, insensitive filth you have spewed at me in the name of cultural understanding. I am its god.”

“Cool!” John cheers, and Vriska is actually _pulling his arm_ to get his attention and he’s just _ignoring her._

Holy shit.

Whoever the fuck this Karkat is, he is now number one on your list of respected people.

Which is a position that he immediately loses when John says “So what’d you think of _Clueless?”_ and Karkat replies “I thought it had its merits.”

“Lost him again,” you mutter, perching your head on Jade’s shoulder in a Totally Cool manner.

“You realize Jade’s going to have to put you down eventually,” Rose says, heading off the inevitable Vriska-based argument as she grabs a seat, dropping your bookbag next to her.

“Bullshit,” you say. “Jade can deadlift 300 pounds, she can keep my scrawny ass up forever.”

“I can, but I don’t think I want to!” Jade says, squeezing your thigh gently where your legs are hooked against her waist. “No offense, Dave, but it’s gonna make it a little hard to focus on the meeting!”

“Damn, Harley,” you say. “Excellent point. 10 out of 10. Knew we were friends for a reason.”

You hope off Jade’s back to the sweet tune of Rose’s grumbling and drop into the seat with your bag. Jade somehow manages to make sitting down look like an exciting new adventure as you drape yourself across your own desk and onto Rose’s. She doesn’t even hesitate, just perches her elbows on your shoulders. You tune out as she asks Jade about some science thing or another, and you take the opportunity to pretend you aren’t examining every person in the room.

There’s Vriska, of course – who, now that she’s been adequately spurned by the only person in this school who believes she is remotely not awful, has begun scrawling furiously in a hideously neon notebook – but that’s just about the only person you recognize. Another troll has joined John’s conversation, this one with red glasses that make your stomach jolt at the sharp edges; on the other side, her hand resting casually on Karkat’s, a lanky troll with carefully styled hair and more freckles than you thought physically possible. In the furthest corner of the room, some kid in a wheelchair hasn’t looked up from his phone since you walked in. At the other edge is the only human you don’t recognize – a stocky girl reading her biology textbook as she waits for class to start.

And, of course, Karkat, all hair and voice, whoever he is and however he knows John.

You are just turning your attention to him when you realize that a pair of eyes is stuck, solidly, to your position on the desk.

“Alright! Everybody calm the fuck down, we’re starting if I have to beat you with your own horns to do it,” Karkat calls. John promptly shoves glasses-girl out of the way to steal the seat next to Karkat.

“Hey, Rose,” you mutter as the room explodes with John and Troll Girl’s bickering. “Don’t look now, but Freckles McGee is staring the shit out of you.”

“Who?” Rose asks, but her gaze has already landed on the troll you were talking about. The girl’s eyes widen just a little and she immediately looks away, standing to calm the argument happening on that side of the room.

“She’s cute!” Jade chirps, and you wince. Man you need to teach Jade how to whisper. And then she says – almost thoughtlessly – “The kid next to her, too.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you say, abruptly sitting up. Somehow Rose predicts the movement and pulls her arms out of the way before you can bang your head on her wrists. That would’ve been fucking embarrassing. “What’s this? Who’s cute? Is my position as the cutest in danger?”

“Never,” Jade says matter-of-factly, but her face is tinted red.

“Oh man,” you say, and you can see Rose smiling in your peripheral. “Oh, man, everyone stop the presses. Call the fucking journals in, hello Time magazine, yes, Jade Harley thinks someone’s cute. Holy shit, sir, we’ll have to take this one straight to People. People, you say? Yes. This is truly momentous.”

“Shut up!” Jade buries her face in her hands. But if there’s one thing you’ve learned from the Harley-Egbert family, it’s that it is really goddamn hard to hide a smile when you have buck teeth.

“Come on,” you press. “Who is it? I’ll take anyone that isn’t Vriska. Is it bull horns kid?”

“No,” she says, and then – praise be to God, she drops her voice to a whisper, leans in and admits, shy, “It’s the kid John’s talking to.”

Kid John’s talking to? Oh man. “Car whatever?” you say, and you are glad she can’t see you blinking sporadically behind your glasses.

“I believe John called him ‘Karkat,’” Rose says.

“Same thing.”

Jade groans, shaking her head. “He’s cute,” she finally admits, half-defeated and half-defiant. “But lots of people are cute! John, Calliope, Rose…”

“I am an eldritch abomination destined to wring destruction and desecration upon the world,” Rose says, “but thank you.”

“Super cute,” Jade says.

“I agree,” you deadpan. “When I think ‘cute,’ my second thought is ‘Rose Lalonde.’”

“That seems indicative of a severe psychological failure.”

“The point is,” Jade continues as you and Rose exchange clever repartee entirely through eye contact, “a ton of people are cute! Just because I said it for one of them doesn’t mean anything special!” You and Rose both take a break to give her A Look. “I mean it!”

“Alright, if the peanut gallery is done gorging themselves on their own narcissistic platter of nobody cares,” Karkat hollers, and the three of you look up sharply to find that the argument taking up everyone else’s attention is long since over, “let’s actually get started, please?”

Vriska immediately starts rattling on about how you should all Introduce Yourselves To The Group, but as tends to happen when Vriska speaks, you have stopped listening. Instead your gaze is stuck in an endless loop between Karkat – who is now arguing valiantly for her to shut the fuck up, mouth moving at about the speed needed to break the sound barrier – and Jade – whose face has now gone bright red, eyes glued to the carpet, refusing to look at any of you.

Jade is your best friend. Karkat, thus far, seems annoying but tolerable. Jade is blushing because of Karkat.

Your name is Dave Strider.

You have an idea.

+x+

You have been home for about twenty seconds when you find Roxy and Calliope making out against the kitchen counter.

“Gay,” you say as you walk past, tossing your bag onto the couch.

“Good afternoon, Calliope,” Rose greets politely where she’s trailing in your heels. Roxy leans out the door to give you a waggly-eyebrow’d-grin, Calliope trailing after her with a suitably sheepish expression as you collapse on the floor next to the couch.

“Heeeey!” Roxy hums, stealing the seat on the couch and dragging her girlfriend down with her. You lean forward to make sure that no flailing legs will knock your skull; when the two of them have settled, you press back again, letting your back rest against Roxy’s shins. “How was your club meeting? The intercultural whatever?”

“It was…certainly something,” Rose says, exchanging a look with you.

“One girl tried to guess people’s names by licking them,” you say. “It was pretty sick.”

“Sick?” Calliope asks, twiddling her thumbs until Roxy takes her hand – soft human skin on thick cherub skin – and presses a kiss to her palm. You mime gagging.

“He means ‘cool,’” Rose interprets, giving the pair of them a fond look. “We met that girl you were talking about, by the way. Jane Crocker. She seemed very nice.”

“Janey!” Roxy cheers, straightening up as Calliope sighs and murmurs “Oooh, she’s so lovely.”

“Yes, she was rather pretty,” Rose agrees. “She recognized me when I mentioned my surname. She has an…interesting vocabulary.”

“Oh man, yesss,” Roxy hums, resting her chin on her hand and staring dreamily into the distance. “Fuckin’ ‘gosh golly darn’ or whatever. So cute.”

“Rose met a girl, too,” you interject before this can devolve into the Roxy And Calliope Bond Over Cute Girls Show. 

“Dave!” Rose hisses.

“Oooh, Rosie, do tell,” Roxy smiles, leaning forward – and her face has gone softer, now that Rose’s happiness has been brought into the equation. You look away and pretend your stomach isn’t churning.

Rose sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Her name is Kanaya,” she finally admits, smiling faintly.

Roxy lets out something that might be a squeal on someone without dignity, by which you mean it was totally a squeal, no question about it. “Oh, you have to tell me all about her,” she says.

“Well, first off, she’s got freckles for miles,” you say. “Like, wow, I bet they go aaaaall the way dow – “

“Dave,” Rose says, and this time she sounds legitimately dangerous but Roxy is laughing above you, and when she reaches a hand down to play with your hair you’re proud of yourself for only flinching a little.

The conversation fades around you, one sentence melting into another – did you get her number no I talked to how long did you talk to oh for ages she was so, she was so – but your eyes are cemented on the wall across from you.

You will need to do some research. You may even need to – ugh – borrow one of John’s rom coms. You are going to have to be very, very careful.

You have not been able to stop thinking about Karkat "Shouty McNubHorns" since you got home. Or the way that Jade looked at him. And there is one thing that you want more than anything else, and that is for Jade to be happy. Your name is Dave Strider and you know what you have to do.

Your name is Dave Strider. You are going to set Jade up with Karkat Vantas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a fucking godawful week. i dont want to bring the mood down by saying exactly what happened, but suffice to say it was terrible, and writing this was....very therapeutic. so idk how well the humor works objectively, but it was good to write.
> 
> broke the 4-page-per-chapter barrier. [pops bottles] yall's comments have kept me going this week, so i hope this was worth the wait for you. i watched so many shitty romcoms in preparation for the rest of this fic. so many. ur welcome
> 
> also, just in case u havent noticed yet, i cannot stand vriska. and since dave is an abuse survivor and vriska is vriska, i am p sure he also would not stand vriska. so what im saying is. if u want a vriska friendly fic. i am not sorry


	4. Chapter 4

“He was on her _back?”_

“I know!” You throw an arm over your face, burying your nose in your sweater as Nepeta’s squeals crackle over the speakerphone. “And he asked her – and I’m directly quoting here – if his _position as the cutest was in danger._ Which means that somewhere in their weird human matesprit bullshit, she called him the cutest.”

Nepeta’s excited shrieking reaches a record high. “That’s soooooo cute!”

“It was like watching diabetes itself regurgitate a hairball made entirely of candy floss and the spirit of Perigree’s Eve,” you say. “It was fucking adorable. Disgusting, and I want to vomit righteous ignominy at even the thought of it, but adorable.”

“How long have they been together?” Nepeta says, and you can hear a rustling across the line that is probably her adding to the complicated series of boxes she uses to document any and all romantic relationships she comes across. It is part of why you continue to talk to her despite her creepy moirail and tendency to force you into roleplay groups without your approval; while you remain the consummate expert on all fictional romances ever, Nepeta is by far the best source of information on real life romance and its variations. “Who asked who out? How did they do it? I need details! Let the cat out of the bag!”

You allow a beat for Nepeta to giggle at her own cat pun, because you are an excellent and thoughtful friend in that way. “I hate you,” you say, because you also understand when enough is enough and that joke was absolutely awful. Nepeta giggles harder. “And I have no idea. Probably not long? They seemed really awkward about it. They might just be awkward people, though, who the shit knows.”

“Karkat,” Nepeta says. “Karkat. Kar. Cat.”

“I know.”

“Karkat. You have to find out.”

“I know!”

“Karkat.” There is a brief rapping noise and a distant shout. “Wait, I’ll be right back.”

“What? What are you – “

“Give me a second!” she hollers, and Nepeta was raised by a lusus so you really have no idea who could be talking in the background?

But then. Quietly.

It comes from the distance, like a demonic oath whispered in the basement at the edge of a rural township – a shadow passing over all that see it, but so fast, so quiet, one might think it a figment of the imagination. A specter condemned to purgatory – caught straddling the line between mortality and endless torment, between purity and corruption. The crackling of Nepeta’s awful reception in her cave. A distant meow. The pungent smell, somehow all the way through the phone line, of someone sweating.

_Honk._

“EXCELLENT TO SEE YOU ONCE MORE, MS DE LEON!” you hear Terezi shout, and you slam that motherfucking end call button faster than you can say anticlimax.

Like hell you are getting roped into listening to that shitty group’s Dungeons and Dragons campaign. You would rather walk barefoot across the flames of the Inferno itself, emerge as a grub once more into the land of living, and go through your entire shitty awful life over again a million times than hear Terezi heavily imply that she’d like to stick her lingual extremity up Nepeta’s nook. Again.

At least it isn’t like the games with Eridan and Vriska’s black flirting from a few years ago. Man, that was the pits.

Unfortunately, without Nepeta prodding you for romantic discussion, you are now without any entertainment for the next few hours. Other than homework, which. Obviously. No. You suppose you could call up one of your other friends, but you are fairly certain that Kanaya is getting her tattoos touched up, and frankly, you aren’t in the mood for everyone else’s bullshit.

You deliberate for about two minutes before your stomach grumbles and you make the tactical decision to brave Kankri’s potential verbal onslaught for some grubsteak. You begin the trek to your kitchen, which is not at all perilous but you like to pretend that it is for the sake of complaining.

You and your guardian live in a communal living area with only four blocks – a respiteblock for each of you, the ablutionblock, and the entryblock, which doubles as a kitchen and living area. (You know there is a troll word for the human concepts of “kitchen” and “living room,” but you cannot be assed to remember every single term there is just for the sake of spiting human prescriptivists who aren’t even around to hear it. Or, such as it is, to make terms up. Like what you did with “tongue” back up there, with lingual extremity. Classic. You are a prodigy of your time.) Though Kankri works nights and you go to school during the day, there is always a period of a few hours right after school where you are nearly guaranteed to get trapped into a lengthy speech about appropriate discussions. Just another reason you’ve joined eighteen thousand clubs for after school use.

Unfortunately, today – Friday, your Get Harassed By Nepeta Into Discussing All Romantic Ventures Of The Week day, which mostly consists of hearing more about the size of Terezi’s bulge than you ever wanted to know – is a no-club day. You have been thrown into the treacherous waters of Utter Fucking Bullshit, and it is now up to you to navigate your way to sandbar of Gourmet Delicacies and avoid the sharks on your trek back to the shore.

If by Gourmet Delicacies you mean yesterday’s leftovers. Mmm, the sweet taste of freezerburn.

You make it to the kitchen without any negative counters, which doesn’t mean a whole fucking lot since it’s literally right there outside the door to your room, and manage to get your leftover grubsteak into the microwave without further bullshit. You have just set it to go for two minutes when your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it delicately on the counter, the Trollian app lighting up.

arsenicCatnip [AC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [GC]

AC: :33 karkat, that was mean :((   
AC: :33 but i want to hear more about these humans later!  
AC: :33 i expect updates befurr the end of next week, mister!! 

arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [GC]

You roll your eyes and move to set your phone down again, resigning yourself to watching your food slowly rotate. Before you can even turn around, though, your phone vibrates again. You are reading to tear Nepeta a new one for restarting the conversation with whatever inane that she considers important enough to put off her shitty roleplaying, but when you glance down, you are not being trolled by Nepeta at all.

You have been pestered by an unknown username.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [GC] –-

GG: hi, is this karkat?  
GG: this is jade from school!  
GC: JADE?  
GC: OH WAIT.  
GC: YOU’RE THE HUMAN GIRL WITH THE WEIRD ASS BRAYBEAST AUTOMOBILE.  
GC: WHAT THE SHIT DO YOU WANT?  
GG: hey, don’t talk that way about my motorcycle!  
GG: bec is the best ride in basically the whole world and i won’t sit by while you insult him X(  
GC: DON’T HUMANS USUALLY PRETEND THEIR VEHICLES ARE WOMEN?  
GC: WAIT. MORE IMPORTANTLY, HOW DID YOU GET MY TROLLIAN USERNAME?  
GC: WAS IT TEREZI?  
GC: IT WAS TEREZI, WASN’T IT.  
GC: GODDAMMIT.  
GC: SHE’S SUCH A MEDDLER. AND NOT IN THE HELPFUL WAY LIKE KANAYA IS, BUT IN THE SHITTY ROUNDABOUT WAY WHERE SHE’S ACTUALLY DOING IT TO ENSURE THAT SHE CAN TASTE YOUR FAILURE AS IT HAPPENS OR WHATEVER.  
GG: it wasn’t terezi!  
GC: OH.  
GG: jeeeeeez you’re so quick to get angry!  
GG: i asked john for your username because i needed to ask you something!  
GC: WHAT THE FUCK COULD YOU NEED FROM ME.  
GG: that’s what i was getting to when you started fucking yelling at me!!!!!  
GC: WELL SHIT, JADE.  
GC: SORRY WE CAN’T ALL BE PERFECT FUCKING MODELS OF SOCIETY.  
GG: uuuuugh  
GC: WHAT?  
GC: IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO ME I’M ALL CARTILAGINOUS LISTENING DEVICES.  
GG: well i actually need to ask you  
GC: WAIT JUST A SECOND I NEED TO DEAL WITH SOMETHING  
GG: UUUUUUUUUUUGH!

What an irritating girl to talk to. You cannot imagine that there is ever a universe where you are friends, or that you ever will be friends in this universe, ever. Even the thought of it is so preposterous it makes your think pan hurt. And you have a think pan with a very high pain tolerance. 

More importantly, though, your grubsteak is ready, which means it’s time to abscond the fuck out of here before Kankri can capitalize on your moment of weakness – exposed, without proper cover, out in the open. You grab the plate and make the mad dash back to your respiteblock. You are unsure whether the sound of a door opening behind you is your imagination or not, but you aren’t sticking around to find out. 

GC: OK, SORRY ABOUT THAT.  
GC: NOW WHAT DO YOU NEED?  
GG: finally!! god  
GG: i need to know if you have my jacket

You glance at the awful, mind-numbingly red squiddle jacket you found left after the club meeting yesterday and tossed to the side of the room. 

GC: WHY THE FUCK WOULD I HAVE YOUR JACKET?  
GG: uuuh because youre the president?  
GG: i think i left it in the carapacian history room after the club meeting  
GG: and dave said that you stayed after everyone else so you’re probably the one who would’ve seen it  
GC: DAVE?  
GC: OH, WAIT.  
GC: YOUR MATESPRIT.  
GG: dave’s not my boyfriend!

What. 

GC: WHAT.  
GG: listen do you have my jacket or not?  
GC: WELL  
GC: I CERTAINLY FOUND *A* JACKET AFTER THE CLUB MEETING.  
GC: IS IT GARISH AND KIND OF HURTS YOUR EYES TO EVEN GLANCE AT IN YOUR PERIPHERAL VISION?  
GG: yes! that’s it.  
GG: it was a gift, and i’d really like it back!!  
GC: WHAT SORT OF COLORBLIND MORON WOULD DEMEAN HIMSELF SO MUCH AS TO CALL THIS TRASH A GIFT?  
GG: dave bought it for me!

Yeah, you saw that one coming. 

Still, you have no reason not to give her back her jacket. It is, in fact, hers. It would be kind of shitty of you to keep it. Ultimately more concerning is the newfound knowledge that human-with-black-sunglasses and human-with-weird-motorcycle – whose names you totally remembered as Dave and Jade before now, absolutely – are not actually a couple. 

Which means that you told Nepeta the wrong thing for her shipping chart. And that presents you with a problem. 

GC: ALRIGHT, I’LL BRING IT IN TO SCHOOL ON MONDAY.  
GC: OR I GUESS WE COULD MEET OVER THE WEEKEND?  
GC: BUT THAT SEEMS TIME CONSUMING AND, HONESTLY, I’VE KIND OF HIT MY LIMIT OF BULLSHIT I’M CAPABLE OF HANDLING MATURELY THIS WEEK.  
GG: maturely, huh?  
GC: YES.  
GC: I AM A VERY MATURE YOUNG ADULT.  
GG: whatever you say mr. shouty mcshouty pants  
GC: HEY, DON’T BRING THE PANTS INTO THIS.  
GC: MY PANTS ARE COOL.  
GC: AND YOU CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP.  
GG: mmmmmmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmmm  
GC: I’LL BRING IT TO YOU ON MONDAY, GOD.  
GC: WHAT’S YOUR LOCKER NUMBER?  
GG: 1025  
GC: ALRIGHT, I’LL GET IT TO YOU IN THE MORNING.  
GG: thanks! i’ll see you then

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] –- 

Okay. Okay, fine. That’s cool. 

You chew thoughtfully on your grubsteak, slowly processing the new information that you have received, and you recognize three essential truths at the exact same time. 

One: Dave and Jade are totally made to be together. Like, you have known them for all of 24 hours, and it is already patently obvious to you and literally everyone around you that they are in fucking love. Just. Head over heels. You have seen the rom coms. You know the ‘mutually pining best friends’ trope. You aren’t some sort of ignorant grub who doesn’t understand how pailing works. They’re fucking in love. This is objectively true. 

Two: Nepeta is not going to be happy when she realizes that you were wrong. Why, when she finds out, she…well, realistically she will do nothing, and be very understanding and tell you these things happen, but you are good at nothing if not at dramatically overestimating the responses of everyone around you so as to have an excuse to do things you want to do, but complain and pretend you hate doing them. 

Three: You are a meddler. A bugger and a fusser and a meddler. You get it from Kanaya. And you know what you have to do. 

Your name is Karkat Vantas. 

You’re going to set Jade up with Dave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> traveled all weekend for family shit, came back, immediately wrote 2000 words of setup for gay fanfic. and read a ton of similar fanfic. i have 3 papers due. welcome to hell
> 
> the jade and karkat pesterlong was so much to fun to write but a HUGE motherfucker to format. like holy shit. sorry @nepeta's typing quirk u lived a good life
> 
> (also: thank u for all the nice comments. yall make my day <33 i promise romantic shenanigans are starting next chapter, so get ready for some Major Bullshit)


End file.
